Chapter Text
John couldn’t remember when he started to hear the whispers of grief. He thinks it might have been when he saw his mother shed tears of iron. He was too young to actually recognize what he was hearing but he remembers the hollow sounds as he watched his parents leave.
The night had been humming a familiar tune, the creeks of the wood and the ticks of their grandfather clock. John had heard that melody every night, sometimes he’d open his window just to add to his symphony, one cricket there and an owl at the end, it was his very own masterpiece. At the age of two, he had learned to listen to the sounds around him, they were his first companion in life. He’d listen to the birds when his mother forgot to brush his hair, or sometimes the groans of their walls, when his father would pass by his room, forgoing a good night or even a hello.
“Jackie,” John felt the hand on his shoulder shaking him lightly. He wasn’t pleased that she had interrupted his friend but he would make the exception because it was rare that she’d remember and he loved it when she did. His backpack was shoved in his arms and he looked at her confused.
“Go stand by the door Jackie, your fathers over there.” John felt nervous. He couldn’t hear his friend well anymore along with the fact that he didn’t want to stand near his father because his father had never forgotten. He knew this because he’d look at him, and yet still not speak. John could not understand. He often thought that maybe something was wrong with him, maybe that’s why his father pretended to forget. Standing near the man was daunting, he was tall and smelled like cloves, and for a troll, was quite unusual, for he didn't smile often. Quite strange.
John watched his mother pace the den, picking up random things and sticking them into a bag of her own. When she finally had stopped, she walked to the front door, picked him up, and started sprinting. Again, John felt lost, because even when she remembered, she had never done this before. He didn’t understand. After a while, they stopped at a quaint yellow pod that had a kind-looking older woman standing at the door. His mother had made quick work of putting him down and nudging him into the doorframe of the woman’s home.
“Rose”. The woman was frowning at his mother, a stern and righteous thing. His mother ignored her and turned to look at John.
”You be good ok? Eat your vegetables and…play with your toys. Just…do what you like to do, ok Jackie.” She was crying but wouldn’t step any closer, wouldn’t hug him goodbye, or even wipe his tears.
“See you later bud.” The sound made him jump, he hadn’t heard that sound in so long. Looking at his father, made John’s chest tremble because he was smiling. They were leaving him with a random lady and his father was smiling. John didn’t understand. As swiftly as they got there, they were gone, just like that, broken sounds clinging to them as they moved.
”I’ve got a bedroom just for you dear” The lady had a nice smile, it reminded him of eating Flutter bites, his favorite candy.
“Who are you?” With that question, he noticed her smile change a little bit, but he couldn’t tell exactly why, so he just continued to look at her expectantly.
"I'm your grandmother, your mother's mother," she said gently, wrapping her arms around him, voice carrying a warmth that enveloped John. He gazed up at her with wide eyes, trying to understand the connection between them.
Instinctively, he leaned into her embrace, seeking the same sense of security he felt when his mother had held him earlier. But as seconds passed, confusion crept into his mind when she didn't lift him and run like his mother had done earlier.
"What are you doing?" he asked, puzzled by her actions.
"When you love someone and you want them to feel happy, you do this. It's called a hug. All you need to do is squeeze back," she explained softly, her arms still wrapped around him.
Understanding dawned on John's face, and he obediently squeezed her back with all the strength his little body could muster. In that simple exchange, he felt a connection forming, a bond that transcended words and filled his heart with warmth.
Time seemed to move faster at his grandmother's, she’d bake and sing for him, making every second joyful, Rosiepuff did her best considering her age. She’d sent him to lessons, fed him, and gave him hugs. The only thing that he wasn’t partial to was that he hadn't heard from his friend since the night his mother left. Rosiepuff loved John and she always remembered. As John got older he noticed that she had to slow down a little bit but was otherwise still spritely. A year later things changed when he saw his mother again.
John had been tucked into bed for some time when the faint sound of knocking echoed through the quiet house. Curiosity sparked within him, and he waited until Rosiepuff's footsteps faded down the hallway before he stealthily crept around the corner, just out of sight.
"Hello, is anyone there?" The voice was familiar, instantly recognizable as his mother's. Heart pounding with anticipation, John strained to listen, his ears tuned to the conversation unfolding beyond his view. He couldn't make out every word, but he sensed tension in the air, a heaviness that made his stomach churn with unease. He could only hear the tail end of the conversation.
“Are you even going to say hello to him, Rose?” His grandmother's voice held a hint of reproach, and John could sense the weight of unspoken emotions lingering in the air.
“No, I have to go,” after a small moment of hesitation she spoke again.
“Please take care of them”, and then she was gone, and he could hear the hollow sounds again, all while his eyes were burning. Turning around abruptly, John found his grandmother's gaze fixed on him, her arms cradling a beautiful polka-dot egg, its vibrant colors mesmerizing in the dim light. Rosiepuff moved swiftly to his side, wiping away the tears that streamed down his cheeks with gentle hands.
“This is gonna be your brother, John, your mother said his name is Spruce, I just know that you're going to be an amazing big brother. Make sure that you take care of and love them a lot.” John took what she said to heart, he knew that he needed to be there for his brother while they waited for their mother to come back.
After two long years of waiting, John had almost resigned himself to the idea that his mother might never return. But then, one day, the familiar soft knocking resounded through the house once again. This time, however, it was his turn to answer the door.
With a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, John swung the door open to find his mother standing there, just as she had been on that fateful day two years prior. Her appearance hadn't changed, but something within John stirred with an inexplicable sense of irritation.
"Oh, John, look at you, you've gotten so big," she exclaimed with a smile that failed to evoke the usual warmth in John's heart. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but her presence left him feeling unsettled.
His gaze shifted to the object cradled in her arms, finally noticing the egg nestled there.
"This is your new sibling, their name is going to be Clay," she announced, her tone filled with a mix of expectation and command. "Make sure that you love them and take care of them. This is your responsibility as his big brother."
With a sense of detachment, John accepted the egg into his arms, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. His mother's words washed over him, but they failed to resonate as they once had. Instead, a wave of frustration surged within him, bubbling up to the surface like a simmering pot on the brink of boiling over.
"I love you, make sure you take care, okay," his mother said softly, her gaze meeting his with a smile that felt like molasses.
For the first time in a long while, John felt a surge of anger coursing through his veins. His mother had come and gone as quickly as she had before, without so much as a word about where she had been or when she would return. It was as if their relationship had become nothing more than a transaction, another egg added to an already overflowing nest.
At that moment, John realized that his mother's absence had left a void that could not be filled with empty promises. And as he watched her disappear into the distance once again, he couldn't help but feel the weight of disappointment settle over him like a heavy cloak. It was the first time he had ever felt such intense anger towards his mother, and he knew that it wouldn't be the last.
She did it again, and again, and again. A year after Clay was brought home, he heard her knocking at their door at the crack of dawn, the sun just barely peeking out. He was six now, he had been to all his lessons, and he knew what she was doing now. He had learned that Pepper Beetles sometimes abandoned their children so that they could migrate and keep finding mates so that they could keep having more children. She was abandoning them. Over and over again.
With a resigned sigh, John rose from his bed and made his way to the door. He knew what to expect now, another egg to add to their ever-growing family. But this time, he felt no excitement or anticipation, only a simmering anger that burned deep within him.
Instead of waiting for his mother to speak, John swung the door open and extended his hands, silently demanding the egg he knew she held. He looked at her expectantly, searching for any sign of explanation but all she offered was a saccharine smile and the name Floyd. After four years had passed and she hadn’t come back, he had thought she was done with having children. Even though he was angry with her, he took everything she said to heart and made sure that he was a great brother
“JD I can’t find my backpack.” About the height of his hip, Clay looked up at him and grabbed onto his shorts, gripping them so hard he thought that they might rip. John knew better than to hug him since he got overwhelmed quickly. Clay was the one to hug you, not the other way around. He did still run a hand through his hair making sure to straighten out pieces as he went. Just to make it look perfect.
“Did you look under the couch?”
“Maybe”
“Go look under the couch Clay.” He shooed him away lightly with the spatula. John had stopped going to lessons so that he could do the housework and do small jobs around the village to earn a little bit more money for treats for the boys. Since Grandma had started to slow down even more, he tended to cook most of the meals in the pod. One child had already been a lot for Rosie but four was pushing it. Feeling hands on his shorts again he looked down to see Floyd, gripping the ends.
“Mhmm, JD I thought you said you were making waffles”
“Well, you have pancakes, eat your food, and start moving towards the school or else,” JD retorted, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Or else, what?”
“Or else this!” Moving quickly JD moved to tickle his youngest brother under his arms, his most ticklish part. John smiled at the tinkling laughs that Floyd let out. He let Floyd run away laughing and continued to watch the stove, smiling a one hundred-watt smile. He loved his brothers.
For the next couple of years, John did his best to be there for his brother and make sure that he was able to help and care for them. He wanted to show them what he had always wanted from his mother. He’s fairly certain Rosiepuff knew it. He made sure that the trollings knew what hugs were on the day they hatched. He wanted them always to be happy and to not have any doubts about whether or not they were loved. He cooked, cleaned, sang lullabies, and made sure that they always could come to him when they needed him. So when he got another knock about 10 years after Floyd had come he was tired of the games that his mother was playing. She had come in the middle of the night again, a universal time of sleeping, making him wonder if she had just been trying to leave this one on the porch.
Swinging the door open, he didn’t even allow her to get any words in, he just snatched the egg from her hands and slammed the door in her face. He was sick and tired of it. He didn’t think she was much of a mother, just a carrier, never mind that he hadn’t seen his father any of these times. he didn’t wanna see any of them again. He hadn’t allowed her to speak so he didn’t know the name of his new sibling, but he decided for her, Branch. His brothers were not her children, he and Rosiepuff were the ones who saw their eggs hatch and took care of them.
His grandmother had been the one to incubate all of his other siblings but he made the impulsive decision to do this one. She was having trouble staying on her feet for long periods, he didn’t want her to take on too much stress.
John remembers thinking that something just clicked in his mind when he heard the cracks of eggshells on his head one day. He had reached up and gently grabbed the trolling and watched him giggle and smile. Branch’s little giggles and coos made his face feel tight and his cheeks warm. He thought that this must be what happiness felt like because he knew he loved his brother like he was his very own child.
No matter what John knew that he loved his brothers dearly, every one of them, but Branch was different. He had basically raised Branch for his first two years. That was his baby plain and simple. Problems only started to arise when he created the band.
He knows that he has issues with perfection. He thinks that it started with his parents. He used to think that maybe if he was perfect and did everything like he was supposed to they would come back. He slowly noticed over time that other little things had to be perfect too, even if he had given up on his parents a long time ago.
He had started the band because money was tight. Six people was a lot of trolls to feed and pop trolls typically didn’t have more than two kids, maybe three. Bigger families made you bigger targets for the Bergen because you had members to spare.
As his grandmother voiced her concerns, John couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at his insides. He knew she was right—he was only 18, and he had taken on more responsibility than most people his age could handle. But the weight of their financial struggles and the constant worry of providing for his brothers had consumed him, leaving little room for anything else.
"Grandma, I don't mind," he replied softly, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I'm their big brother, I have to be there for them. And Melody is still around, she's my friend."
But deep down, John knew that his words were only a half-truth. Yes, he cared deeply for his brothers and was committed to their well-being, but the pressure of shouldering the responsibility alone was starting to take its toll. The itch in his mind had grown into a burning sensation, a constant reminder of his mounting stress and the overwhelming burden he carried.
As he lay awake at night, the weight of his obligations pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket, leaving him grappling with feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was failing his brothers, that his efforts to help them were only causing more harm than good.
The news of Melody's death had hit him like a sledgehammer, leaving him reeling with grief and disbelief. He felt as though a part of him had been ripped away, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that refused to heal. He was crumbling.
So when the perfect family harmony failed, it all came crashing down, and every little bit of pressure that he had felt at the moment exploded outward and caused irreparable damage.
His brothers were still young and he had left them, hoping that maybe they would be happy if he wasn’t there. That maybe in the end, they would be better off if they didn’t see him because he knew he was hurting them with his expectations and he wanted to stop.
He lasted about two years. He needed to go back and see them. He needed to see that they were well and alive because they were his brothers and he loved and missed them.
Going back to the tree in itself was heartbreaking. As much as he missed them he still loved the freedom of knowing that he could move anywhere without the fear of dying by Bergen. He noticed that the tree was quiet, not a soul around, a symphony without instruments. He started to look around and speed up his search for trolls. He felt panic strike him when he saw decayed trolls and blood. He needed to find his family
The moment he stepped inside their pod, a putrid stench assaulted his senses, causing him to recoil and gag involuntarily. It was a sickening blend of decay and neglect, mingling with the thick, stagnant air that filled the house. Dust motes danced in the dim light filtering through the windows, casting eerie shadows across the destroyed room.
His heart pounded in his chest as he took hesitant steps further into the house, his eyes scanning the surroundings with growing dread. Moldy food lay scattered on the countertops, evidence of neglect and abandonment. Panic clawed at his throat as he realized the truth.
Frantically, he moved from room to room, calling out their names, but his voice echoed back at him, accompanied by the broken chimes of grief. The silence was deafening, suffocating him with its weight. And then, as he reached the final room, his worst fears were confirmed.
They were gone.
His family was gone.
His knees buckled beneath him, the weight of his grief crushing him to the ground. Tears blurred his vision as he struggled to make sense of the nightmare unfolding around him. He had left, thinking he was doing the right thing, but instead, he returned to a barren pod and grief that he didn’t think he would be able to stand. This was probably it for him, even breathing hurt. What right did he have to live, when his family was dead?
With trembling hands, he reached for a nearby chair, clinging to it as if it were the only anchor keeping him from being swept away. His mind raced with a million questions, each one more agonizing than the last.
How could this have happened?
Why did he leave?
Why did they have to die?
But there were no answers, only the cold, harsh reality staring back at him from every corner of the empty room. And as the full weight of his loss settled over him like a suffocating blanket, he knew that he would never be the same again.
After a couple of minutes of spiraling, he felt a sudden moment of exhaustion and a pull deep in his stomach. Looking down at his hands he noticed that the color was fading and the palms of his hands were grey, he didn’t know what to do with that.
Seeking solace, he stumbled over to Branch's bed and collapsed onto it, feeling as though he were losing grip on time and reality. His senses dulled, leaving him adrift in a sea of confusion and despair. After he had finally steadied his breath he sluggishly got up to leave and stepped on something squishy. It was the toy that he had sewed for Branch. His eyes watered once again and he felt his chest constrict for air. Picking it up he noticed a note on the floor, halfway under the bed. It was in messy scribbles and blue crayon, Branch’s favorite
Floyd, I wanted to stay, but King Peppy said I couldn’t. Escape tonight I hope you find this. You promised youd come back soonn
John's hands trembled as he read the words, a surge of anguish ripping through him. Had his brothers left the tree after him? Fear and determination mingled within him as he bolted from the room, scouring the village for any sign of the way that trolls might have gone.
Finally, he stumbled upon a trail of footprints leading toward tunnels, his heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty and loss. He didn’t want to think about the uncertainty of the others, but he had hope that Branch was out there. He would make sure to find him.